


Who hurt you? (you want a list or what)

by KaneNogami



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 as Family (Naruto), Gen, Haruno Sakura-centric, Konoha is bad, Sakura is a wolf in everything except body, Unconventional way to become a shinobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaneNogami/pseuds/KaneNogami
Summary: Sakura starts small.Walking to the Academy without clenching the handles of her backpack so hard she gets bruises—tired of being scolded by her mother, of comparisons drawn out of nowhere about her appearance and mannerisms.Sakura almost manages to get inside this time around.At the last second though, her treacherous mind pulls her back into months of teasing gone wrong. The Academy is meant to harden them, teachers brushing off a couple of concerns that she has inside her throat with a smile which seems ready go devour their whole faces.//In which the Academy messes Sakura up. She finds her way eventually.Sasuke is a child filled with fear and night terrors who never came back to class.Naru, realizing that love was out of order, simply fled to the darkest corners of town, and flourished.
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 23
Kudos: 415





	1. Sakura

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this chapter has heavy mentions of bullying, child neglect, vomiting, blood, bad coping methods. These kids are a found family, but quite a messed up one.  
> Also the ages are different from canon making Sakura older than the boys.
> 
> Self-indulgent mess, part 2 will be Kakashi meeting his team!

Sakura starts small.

  
Walking to the Academy without clenching the handles of her backpack so hard she gets bruises—tired of being scolded by her mother, of comparisons drawn out of nowhere about her appearance and mannerisms.

  
Sakura almost manages to get inside this time around.

At the last second though, her treacherous mind pulls her back into months of teasing gone wrong. The Academy is meant to harden them, teachers brushing off a couple of concerns that she has inside her throat with a smile which seems ready go devour their whole faces. 

Sakura is terrified of the Academy, of bullies who pretend to be classmates, laughing each time she dares to get an answer right. Snickers and taunts, promises that once in the field her pretty dresses will be ripped to shreds, like her mind. 

When she stands there, screams tucked away because she is a child going on weapon, and she shouldn't react so strongly—emotions are a tool, not the pathetic display of tears and pure fear dripping against her cheeks—Sakura doesn't want to be a shinobi any longer. 

There is a point, when she is still young, perhaps eight or nine, where she almost convinces herself it'll work out somehow. That her heart will eventually crumple into nothing, akin to a rotten flower. That wouldn't be so bad, if she can bare her teeth and grin at the same time, if she is the one who is feared on training grounds. 

She doesn't get there—her tests are left filled with blanks because she stops showing up, can't focus on learning anything any longer. All is left is the anticipation of her parents, willing to let her be their beautiful and kind daughter once more. They gently, although they are not kind, encourage her to give up. 

Why keeping a child enlisted if they don't even sit in a classroom? 

Sakura is weak, she will fail her future team, being responsible for their death—she wakes up at seven every morning anyway, packing her lunch and taking as many steps as possible before ending somewhere else. 

Adults look away, parents who never ask where she was, or even why—don't they know of the bullying, why do they make her feel like she should be able to stand steadily when they keep pushing her with remarks and casual cruelty?

Teachers with their mouth full of teeth and laughter as they ignore the dirt in her hair and cuts against her palms because she tried to defend herself. 

Iruka can't carry divinity for a whole village, he might be real, heart where it should be, without having much power. He lets her eat with him, before she stops being able to even do that, and he listens. The problem is that nobody returns the favor. 

Sakura ends up behind, almost thirteen and supposed to have two more years before graduating when she should have a headband and pride already.

Every year, she fills the paperwork to remain a student, ignoring the hands against her shoulders, akin to claws, people laughing and asking _Hey why aren't giving up? We've all done that already._

Sakura, who dreams of being filled with the opportunity to untangle the mess in her throat and scream until she can't let a sound out ever again, refuses to relent. 

Children like her, she is told, and she doesn't know who is speaking, might be the librarian as she curls onto a chair with a book below her level, are either good for paperwork or as decoys on the field. They could as well call her canon fodder in her face and spare the pity, it'd be faster. 

Sakura grows up doubting every step, from genius to below average, unable to focus on whatever is in front of her. In a village which was in countless wars, nobody cares what happens to her.

The Hokage makes a speech, in his defense he gives many of those and they blur together into static noise that she can't listen to. Our brave children, he says, and all she hears is her own anguish. 

See, Sakura wanted to be a cool shinobi to be with Ino, for them to hold hands and talk for hours. Maybe a couple of easy missions here and there—Ino has graduated already, she's whole and clever and she has definitely forgotten Sakura.

That's the convenient choice, honestly.

Her chakra reserves are a joke, excellent control slipping off as she cannot keep anything inside of her together. Dieting is the path to beauty, her mother explains while kissing her cheek and gently taking a half-eaten bowl out of her hands. It's fine, to be empty, if you're pretty.

Sakura dreams of bloody knuckles and everyone at her feet, until she wakes up gasping for air, sweat against her gigantic forehead that she hides with bangs. She cries herself back to sleep, that doesn't fix anything. 

Nice children don't become shinobi, they are bullied out of the Academy within months. Who wants the girl who can't hit properly because nobody bothered to correct the way she positions her fingers, kunai slippery and too dangerous for a mere civilian. 

Nice children, the kind to care for their teammates, the ones teachers tell them about, are made out of a need for order. They don't exist, they aren't shinobi. 

Ino, whose family is specialized in invading your mind, was not created to be nice. 

Sakura, whose parents are specialized in criticizing others behind closed doors, is a weakling.

If she dies, won't everyone be right about her? She won't be remembered, outside of being used to dissuade civilian brats to join the Academy. After all, you don't want to end up like this poor girl who couldn't take it anymore, right sweetie? 

Sakura fails, day after day. 

  
She doesn't give up though. 

  
And that's the funny part, she doesn't know why she keeps a routine which causes her to be sick, pink hair dripping in her own vomit after she crouched in an alley to avoid being seen. Fingers trace her teeth, still too soft and useless. And she wants to rip this world apart. 

Sakura is _weak_. 

One morning, chugging on a peach-flavored drink to ease the dryness of her mouth, her feet carry her beyond what's acceptable. 

Civilians have no business existing so close to shinobi, they should be grateful and bow, that's all. Sakura, who is standing in front of the Uchiha compound, head titled back so she can glare at the sky, doesn't care.

She squeezes the straw between her useless teeth—why wasn't she born into a clan? Then she would have been bullied exactly in the same way because she is spineless and a know-it-all with an empty head—and she stays there. 

The Uchiha clan was wiped out a couple of years earlier. She still has glimpses of the youngest heir, one year below her at the Academy before she lost her footing and him his whole family.

You're supposed to be a good child, the kind who says out loud that she loves her parents and then giggle a bit because that's all this body can produce. She hates girlhood because she was made this way, considered useless out of pink hair and eyes too kind. 

The bamboo straw has the shape of her teeth engraved into the wood. 

Sakura has Inner, her wrath and craving for revenge. That's just a silly play-pretend friend though, that's what her father told her, when she was nine and Inner was snarling at bullies while she couldn't hide or defend herself. She was meant to outgrow this childish comfort, and instead Inner is the one who settled inside her body, turning it cramped and uncomfortable. 

The door slides open, a boy staring at her with his face twisted into scorn.

Sakura can't bother to care about ghosts, or whatever is meant to be in front of her.   
She growls, as if she could do anything more than that. As if she could drive into girlhood and comes back drenched in blood, uncomfortable dresses and body long gone in favor of the skin of a wolf. Each tear in the fabric got mended with a scowl, mother reminding her of being proper, of being a nice little girl. 

Truth is, Sakura might be weak. No, scratch that, she definitely is. 

Nice though? Not really. 

The realization hits her weirdly, drink stale in her mouth as the boy is still staring, brows furrowed and mouth ready to growl back. 

He does. 

He does, and that's as inhumane as she is feeling with each passing day. Does she look that disgusting, when she wants nothing but to rip his throat open with her bare teeth?   
She hopes so. 

What people don't mention about the Uchiha, outside of them being (almost) extinct, is that they weren't treated that well either. Politics and old feuds creating a time bomb which left no one unscathed. 

What they did insist on, however, when she was still attending her classes, is how Sasuke would definitely return. That he only needed a bit more time, everything being completely fine. 

The boy, shorter than her, probably prettier too, which isn't that hard, is not fine.

How could he be, alone where corpses were once filled with life? Sakura doesn't know about a father who wouldn't acknowledge his son for not being a prodigy, outside of a couple of back-handed comments meant to be praise. If she did, she'd understand why they are glaring at each other like wolf pups trying to wrestle for a piece of meat. 

"Did they send you? The Council. They do that, sending people to convince me." 

Sakura is almost thirteen, scars jagging against her skin when bullies were smarter than her, drinking only what doesn't have too many calories so her mother remains remotely happy with her existence, she's barely considered an Academy student or a child any longer. 

She spits on the ground, saliva mixed with the pinkness of the drink. That matches with her hair, doesn't it? Ah, that's not proper for a good child to do that. 

Sakura is thirteen, and her answer is loud and clear. 

"Nope. I hate Konoha anyway." 

She must be a silly little girl, for not taking into account that someone might have been listening, the village unwilling to release a weapon into the wild. 

Sakura isn't like Ino, she's raised to be innocent, she doesn't start lying as soon as she is capable to because it's a compulsory skill. She isn't smart in the right way, like Shikamaru, only good at vomiting words directly from textbooks and enounciating strategies she can't even begin to envision putting into practice. She lacks the energy that Lee has, his persevance to smile and to cheer for others when nobody will return the favor. 

She only has Inner, who wouldn't mind burning this world down to make herself warm. 

Sasuke lets her inside a house filled with dust in the air. 

He grabs a teapot, filling it with water and then watching it slowly heat up, body moving with a lot more care than what the kids at the Academy have. No, that's different, she muses, knees slipping underneath her chin.

Sasuke is—afraid? 

That can't be right, she is pushing her own problems onto him. He is the last Uchiha, she reminds herself, only for Inner to add that he never returned after the massacre. 

They should have forced him—Sakura has seen how war heroes are treated, the dead ones praised more than her old neighbor who can't stand out without a kunai in his hand just in case of an attack.

Or maybe they couldn't. Because, judging from the way he is leaning with his back against the wall, ignoring the table and chairs to glance at the door and window, he never got over what happened either.

"I'm Sakura," and she doesn't add a last name she couldn't care less about. Her Summer dress is too tight and it doesn't even have pockets, so she finds herself with hands against her ankles, curled on the chair as if she wished to disappear. Cheek pressing against a warm knee, she looks at the kettle still not done, "It's quiet here."

That might be another wrong thing to say out loud. 

He swallows, bile hard inside his throat as he hides his hands behind his back.

"Not really." 

"The Academy is loud, even when I don't go," and she doesn't know why she is pourring out with words suddenly—her dress has sleeves in spite of the weather so her parents don't have to stare at scars of hatred caused by classmates, "Is it the same thing?" 

"Yeah."   
That's all, he doesn't elaborate. 

Soon the tea is ready and he serves both of them only to return against the wall, letting his body slide until he's sitting on the floor. There is a layer of dust on top of things, on the chairs he doesn't use. And Sakura pretends not to notice the hint of long-dried blood underneath. 

They drink in silence, as if the tea wasn't burning their tongue—and it didn't even infuse enough, that's like drinking water with a vague hint of something sour in it. 

Sakura doesn't figure out what to say, because she shouldn't be there. She is supposed to be in class with children younger than her, ten or eleven and weapons hidden in their sleeves, to fill her brain with theories she is meant to memorize although people expect her to die during her first mission. 

After a while, she takes out her bento, filled with not enough for one, even less for two. Still, she walks to Sasuke, crouching next to him and handing out the spare of chopsticks she always has on her. 

Bullies used to break them, or to do much worse—

"I'll watch the window, and you can have the door. Deal?" 

She is aware of what's like, to eat in a corner, as fast as possible, not even tasting whatever you put inside your mouth because you'd rather choke than get hurt by your classmates. And sure, that's not the same as whatever hell Sasuke went through. Sakura gets the fear anyway, as they start digging in a meal already too warm because she was supposed to eat it hours ago. 

Good children wouldn't have lost track of time.

Clan kids don't eat almost spoiled food, unless they have no choice.

Sakura isn't certain of what they are—Sasuke has no clan any longer, and she has nothing to her name—they share this meal anyway, watching out for an improbable ambush in silence. 

"I'll be back tomorrow," she inhales sharply, overstepping to the point of wishing to disappear, "If it's okay with you." 

Sasuke, blinking twice as he washes the chopsticks and the bento box, offers a short nod, without turning around. 

In another existence, had she been more capable, and him less scared of his own shadow, they wouldn't have gotten along very well. In this one, they are disasters who can't communicate and somehow, that makes things okay.

She wipes the dishes while staring at the door, so nothing wrong will enter.

Somehow, she made her first friend since Ino. 

She bumps into a kid smelling of hair dye and holding a bunch of sunflowers on her way home. 

He doesn't apologize as much as he flinches. That's an odd thing, the way his shoulders slump right after that, as if he was resigned to get punished for simply not looking where he was going. 

As if he had gotten through a litany of screams during this life, or perhaps the previous one. 

"I'm sorry, didn't pay 'tention—"   
He has scars on his cheeks, as if claws had tried to tear flesh apart.

The wolf (Inner) inside of her, vibrates in excitement. That's not right. 

She tells him it's alright, although she wants to find who made him this way and rip them apart. 

Weird. That's more human interaction than she had over the past years, excluding her parents. As she watches him vanish in the opposite direction, leaving only a sunflower between her hands, Sakura wonders why people keep on giving her dead things. Flowers. Smiles. Hopes and dreams. 

If she could do girlhood again from the start, she'd ask for an autel in her name. To make things count. 

The next morning, she takes one more step towards the Academy than the prior day. And then, she walks to the Uchiha's compound. She doesn't have to knock on the door or anything—there is a hole in the middle, probably a remain of the massacre, and that's how Sasuke saw her before—as he's already opening, beckoning her inside. 

They find themselves in the same house, and the tea is cold and filled with ice cubes this time around. More appropriate for the weather.

At first, Sakura decides to be polite. After all, pretending she doesn't notice how everything has been cleaned, and the way Sasuke's palms are red and peeling, would be proper.

Inner wants to grab his hand and lick it—she buries her head behind her tea, hoping that these confusing thoughts will vanish. 

Sakura's only a civilian, nothing special about her. 

What a bright little girl, people whisper to her parents, still naive and beaming with pride.

They don't say they almost lost her before she was even born, don't mention what they did to ensure she wouldn't die. 

Why would it matter? 

Sasuke is beautiful, in an almost ethereal way—as the haunting ghost of a child who once died there. He's cold, terribly so. She noticed when their hands brushed the day before as he returned the cleaned chopsticks to her. 

She wonders about other matters, such as boys and falling in love, and none of that is resonating with her. 

They don't talk much, because they don't have to. 

She stands behind him, as he gives a tour of the house. Many closed doors, some covered with seals, others with tape. She has questions that Inner wants to ask. 

She keeps them to herself for now. 

In front of one door, he steps backward, almost colliding against her. She watches, as if the situation wasn't horrible, as Sasuke slowly edges towards the opposite wall, keeping his back against it to go further in the hallway. 

"This is my room," he announces, awaiting for her to follow, and _that was my brother's_ , he doesn't add. 

Sakura played pretend with most of her life—not only with Inner—creating adventures where she wouldn't be the monster or the ugly aunt playing the mean role. She invented a world in which she would feel safe, walking aimlessly around Konoha and hoping that she wouldn't be seen or heard ever again. Just to be safe. 

Her dress is sticking to her back, due to the heat, and she wishes she could rip the sleeves off. 

Why not, Inner asks, making a fair point. 

Laying on the rug, she glances at Sasuke curled up on the bed, playing with the hem of his shorts. Not faring much better, hm.

"Why aren't you at the Academy?" 

She blinks at the ceiling—sweat against the back of her neck. To him, aren't all kids meant to be shinobi? It's all he has ever known, before that dreadful silence Sakura is basking in. 

"I—am only a student in name. I don't really go anymore." 

She'd rather no mention that she is unable to do so, anxiety akin to a tidal wave making her stomach turn into a mess.

"Same," he eventually whisper, leaning forward so his legs are dangling off the bed. 

This is too familiar, and neither of them is old enough to go through that heartache. She feels awful for even thinking their situations are similar, as she has her parents back at home. Sasuke only have whatever is left of the compound, dozens of closed doors and unwanted memories.  
However, they are both stuck at the wrong place, aren't they? 

"I was bullied, no one did anything, that's my fault they said," she sits up, and even that is hard without using her arms to push herself, "I'm almost thirteen, yet I can't even step inside the damn building without falling apart. My bullies have graduated, and yet." 

Fingers with decorated nails she ruined by running them against walls, tug on her sleeves, revealing a myriad of scars that only infuriated her mother because they ruined her worth. 

Grief invades the room as Sasuke lets out a growl, sliding on the floor next to her. He doesn't touch, nor he makes a revolting comment.

His eyes say a lot, beneath bangs. That's perhaps why they both have them—so people cannot take a hold of the rage always boiling inside their blood. 

"If I become a shinobi, I'll have to—kill my brother. For what he has done."

Doesn't he want revenge? Ah that makes them different, Sakura supposes. 

They have another quiet moment, during which she wants to comfort him, without finding the right words. Maybe there aren't any. She tentatively bump their shoulders together, body tense. 

While startled, Sasuke doesn't dash away. He simply takes a moment to digest what is happening, before bumping back into her. 

"Those were his last words, the demand he made before leaving. All I wish for, honestly, is to know why, or at least to understand," he confesses, and his voice is so small and his face twisted in what appears to be sorrow, that Sakura wonders if he isn't mad at himself for that, "That'd be the wrong thing. The Council keeps on sending people to talk to me about the Academy, they are convinced I'm on the path to rampage on my own, and that scares me, how everyone thinks that."

"Let them believe what they want," she interjects, "Teachers are convinced I'm either going to give up on becoming a shinobi, or that I'll kill myself. Which would be the same thing to them," ah, that's odd to say it out loud. 

"Do you want to die?" His voice is flat, small. 

"No, I wish to—" They barely know each other, and all she noticed is that Sasuke ate all the cherry tomatoes from her bento yesterday, "Make everyone pay. Prove them wrong. Rip them apart, sometimes, only when I'm alone and the world turns against me in my head. Please don't judge me..."

The main house is unsettling suddenly, all this silence she welcomed the day before. How has Sasuke not turned mad from it? Perhaps due to his routine, the way he avoids doors and ghosts. Or because he's one. She wishes she could do the same. 

Each time kids laugh on the streets, she wants to crawl inside her own skin and vanish.

Neither of them has dealt properly with trauma, that's obvious. To claim she wishes for payback for her bullying, the neglect she endured, when Sasuke apparently doesn't share the sentiment although his brother annihilated their family—

"Hn," he eventually adds, as if he had nothing else, "Come back tomorrow. I won't mind."

Why isn't he calling her a monster? Tears pooling in her eyes, rendering her as useless as she has always felt, Sakura finds herself taking her leave minutes later.

She avoids mentioning how uneasy Sasuke is when they have to go through the hallway once more. 

The boy from yesterday, black hair and huge smile, is standing where they collided. For a moment, she fears it's some sort of trap—her parents warned her about the neighborhood past their own, red-light district filled with terrible people. They never told her to look for monsters much more closer.

He waves, and she returns the gesture. Now that she is standing in front of the child, probably the same age as Sasuke or one year younger, he does seem dirty. There is dried mud against his knees, and his fingers are scraped from rummaging through something—or perhaps a fight.

"You came back, big sis!" 

And, once more, he braces himself as if Sakura was keen on rejecting the title and everything else. That's a mirror of her own behavior, when she is aware of which sentences earn praise from her parents, and how others will cause her feelings to be dismissed. 

"That's the path to my way home." 

"Oh! Makes sense. I don't have any flower for you today—tried to get one, but the owner of the shop is an ass and he chased me although I swear I had 'nough money this time around."   
And the previous day? 

Probably not. Who would steal sunflowers? 

(She avoids thinking said owner could be Ino's dad replacing his wife on her day off.) 

"That's okay," should she bring bentos for both boys? She doesn't know much about cooking, as her mother refuses to let her pick whatever she wishes to eat in the first place. That's unfair. "I'm Sakura, what's your name?" 

"Naru!" 

Ah, they both avoid last names. 

She sees no deceit on his face, nothing to indicate he's part of a ploy to kidnap children and sell them to the highest bidder. If anything, he's as wary as she is, although it shows less when he simply keeps a short distance between them. 

His shirt is looser on one side, probably from having been tugged on and all she remembers are giggles and scissors gliding against dresses and made up excuses to her parents. 

In another life, Sakura would have looked down on the boy. In this one, the merchants' daughter doesn't mind much. They are both akin to stray animals, they tiptoe over different territories whicy aren't truly theirs, careful not to be caught.

"What are you doing? Surely you weren't waiting for me?" 

He blushes a bit, dark pink around his scars, and then shakes his head. 

"I could—could have waited for you, yeah, I thought about it. I didn't though, it's the path I take everyday too." A pause. "You were kind yesterday. I guess." 

How starved for any hint of positivity they are. Sakura slams fingers against her cheeks, swallowing Inner' screams are deep as possible. Her chakra is in shambles, flowing through her body and mind the wrong way. That's how things are these days. Knowing it doesn't make anything better. 

"That's basic decency, Naru—" Her smile is strained, baby teeth gone and still there underneath her tongue, "I'm not that familiar with it either, so no worry." 

Should she—

Suddenly, Sakura has two acquaintances which feel like the beginning of friendship. How did that even happen? Recalling years of nonsense at the Academy, she wonders who pushed the other away first, between Ino and her. Doesn't matter any longer. She's the worst kind of exhausted, when sleep can't bring any reprieve, and closing her eyes only show flashbacks of things and faces she'd rather punch straight in the middle. 

A growl catches her attention, sound coming straight from the boy stomach; shame paints his face underneath a wobbly smile. 

Sakura is willing to watch her knuckles bleed and her mouth pooling with blood, if only to stop the nightmare this village has turned into. 

The bento she packed is almost empty, the heat didn't make Sasuke or her especially hungry. And even if it's only scrapes, that's better than nothing at all. She hands it out, voice loud and clear. 

"Here, take what's left."

"Are you like—sure?" 

"Yes." 

Tomorrow, she will meet with Sasuke who is unable step outside of his cage, opposite of her who can't return to her own without breaking down. And, perhaps—

"Are you free every day?" 

Not even bothering to sit down to eat, fingers plunging inside warm rice and shoving it in his mouth in one go, Naru makes a choked sound. Slamming a palm against his ribcage, he takes a moment to swallow and breathe properly again. 

"Anytime, really—not much work to do during the day around there. It's too hot, so I do stuff in the evening or at night! You need me for somethin'?" 

"Actually, perhaps I do."

Dinner, quite different from the rush of morning, is a peaceful affair at home. She rubs her forehead with a knuckle, wondering if it's only because her mother isn't there. As for her father, he could as well be absent too, for what it changes. She licks her lips, mouth dry and fingers gross and sticky due to the heat. The bento box was washed, alongside the bowl she used for dinner, only cold soup and not much more. 

Has Naru gotten the same luxury? And Sasuke? Who even buys groceries for him? She'll have to ask. 

I hate Konoha, she told him when they first met.

That's not a lie, although it was a reality confined to Inner's part of the brain until that point. It's odd to have let it out. To admit it without hesitation. Ah her good girl mask has slipped off years ago. It's simply that there was nowhere but a blank state underneath up to that point.   
Time to change that. 

"Idiot!" 

"Asshole." 

What did she expect from the boys, hm? 

Naru and Sasuke waste no time antagonizing each other. She can't tell why—Sakura has never considered herself to be someone people would fight over. 

"Both of you, shut up," the wolf she dreams to be snarls, wishing to bite off their heads. Instead it's knuckles rubbing against their head, "It looks shitty enough as it is."

Her plan was—in retrospect, Sakura has not planned anything since she stopped attending classes. She lets the world carries her around as if she were a leaf lost on a river. Here they are anyway, cooking a recipe which would be a piece of cake for her mother. For them, however, it's a tad more complicated. 

The rice is burned, which is a feat considered that was supposed to be the easy part. As for the vegetables—some are crunchy and other have fallen apart due to everything being dumped into the pot at once rather than step by step. As for the meat, actually they won't mention that part.

They make a brave attempt at eating their failure of a meal, except for the meat, taking chunks of burned rice and uncooked vegetables only to gag or, in Sasuke's case, to dip each mouthful into a can of diced tomatoes before daring to eat it. 

"We're shitty at this," Naru gets to say, only for a foot to hit him in the shins underneath the table, "Oi, you know I'm right!" 

They used a cookbook Sakura borrowed from her home, aware that nobody has used it in years anyway. Now, she sorta gets why. That's way above their level. 

Or maybe she truly fucked up her brain so badly she can't do anything right anymore. 

"I never burn ramen when I cook." 

"You mean the stuff you put in the microwave?" 

Sasuke is oddly horrified for someone who doesn't even have one. Either because the Uchiha clan didn't want technology to bleed in their lives, or simply because they couldn't have cared less. 

Tuning down the argument to focus on her own misery, and the piece of leek she has been tried to chew for the past thirty seconds, Sakura considers giving up completely. 

As for the Academy, she is her own weird brand of stubborn. Which means they will have to try something else the following day.

"I've been dieting since I'm eleven, per my mom's wishes," she swallows the leek only to empty her glass of water in one go after, "I want real food."

"Ramen is—" 

"Pre-packaged ramen is filled with salt," Sasuke looks so offended. 

Relaxed too. At first, he watched Naru like a hawk, but when he understood there would be one more person to keep an eye on doors and windows, his body accepted the bargain. 

"And dieting is stupid. A shinobi needs calories to burn during training." 

"Sakura's a shinobi?!"

"Not really. Technically I should be." 

"Oh, that's amazing. I went to the Academy when I was younger but—didn't work out, y'know."

Charming, she recognizes the signs in his voice, in his demeanor. 

Pressing her forehead against the wooden table, she closes her eyes. She was set up to be a failure from the start. At cooking and at being a warrior too; both require skills she wasn't taught, lack of bloodline or name good enough fot that. 

Clenching her fists against her dress, she raises her head only to slam it against the wood as hard as she can, howling in rage.

The deafening silence following sure is something.

Blood drips against her face, not that she wants to care, not when she's unable to be good or smart or useful—her clothes are uncomfortable and so is her body as a whole. She hasn't enough space to grow, and that's everyone's fault. 

"I can't be a shinobi, I can't cook, I can't be pretty or do one tiny thing right—" She chokes as she wipes her eyelids, damp with anger. She doesn't want them to witness that, they barely know each other. 

Maybe that's what makes it easier.   
Eventually, she notices Naru standing next to her chair, chewing on his lower lip and handing her a towel. Ah yeah, still bleeding. She accepts it even if she has to unclench her fists one finger after another to do so. 

Where are the claws, why are her canines crammed inside a mouth which can barely hold them—where is the wolf that she craves to be? Wiping her face, and definitely smearing blood everywhere judging by how pale Sasuke is, Sakura swears. 

Sasuke. She forgot, driven only on impulse, that he once watched the kitchen filled with corpses. Mumbling an apology she escorts herself to the sink, cold water washing off the red stains against her skin. 

"You can, I think—be all these things. Or only some. Dunno why girls are supposed to be pretty and not boys, 'coz there is nothing wrong with that—but I think you shouldn't listen to people," Naru, sitting on the counter, continues, "Sometimes, when the villagers get mean and I dye my hair or run away for a while, I remind myself that they don't care. So their opinion couldn't matter less. Who decided they were right and we were wrong anyway?!" 

Sakura stares, the harsh sort of expression which doesn't fit her face. At least, if she bothers listening to her mother. It's good that Sakura is talented at ignoring what adults tell her, then. 

"Which color's your hair naturally?" Her voice cracks a bit. 

"Oh, I'm blonde. I don't super like it, it makes me stand out way too much." 

"Moron, she has pink hair," Sasuke interjects, knuckles white as he grips the table to get up, "That's worse." 

She doesn't mean to let out a strangled chuckle—these two sure a whole new level of kids who can't think before opening their mouths. And she likes it, somehow. 

"Well, thanks Sasuke." 

"Hn." 

At least he isn't mentioning the way she tried to fracture her skull against the old kitchen table. That's worth something. 

Sakura is a failure. 

Sasuke is a ghost who has the misfortune of still being alive. 

And Naru, she learns weeks later, is a pariah. 

Rejection, she's familiar with it. The red-light district less so. It's a place which mostly comes to life at night, and it's not as shady as she expected. There are shopkeepers and people chatting as she walks by, Naru holding her hand and babbling about which places are the best for a quick meal and where you can wash the dishes in exchange for a bed. 

She should be in hers, except her legs were aching for something, and she found herself climbing out the window. In retrospect, she should have planned this a bit better, beyond knowing the name of the house where Naru lives. 

It was awkward, to ask for her friend while stuttering, her voice treacherous. Immediately though, he ran to her, so pleased by the visit. She listens as he explains that's not exactly a whorehouse, more of an illegal orphanage, and yeah sometimes kids get recruited into that sort of business once they approach adulthood. Less awful than what happens at Konoha's official orphanage. 

"They would not give me food, or lock me out at night, s'was not fun," he mumbles, squeezing her palm more than he should, "Here, people don't call me a monster."

He's ten, and she's thirteen (didn't celebrate, her parents were traveling for work anyway), and Sasuke is eleven.

They are fucking children. Why can't people see that? Sakura doesn't ask how he got that title. In the same way he doesn't inquire why she has so many scars or about the way they find Sasuke curled up in his wardrobe sometimes, dead silent and eyes wide. 

Naru isn't a monster. He's her friend. 

"I really wanted to be a shinobi," he tells her while they are sitting on a bench, eating crepes paid with money Sakura stole from her parents, "but the Academy—" 

"Sucks," she finishes for him. 

One day, they'll manage to get Sasuke to leave the compound to share that sort of moment. Right now, that doesn't seem to be something they can achieve. As they are haphazardly leaning against his each other, dark hair brushing against her shoulder, Sakura sinks her teeth into the crepe. 

"What if we could be shinobi without the Academy?"

"What, we can do that?!" 

"Let's find out." 

Technically she is a student, still. Which means a library card, and some privileges such as sales in overpriced shops and free entry to the hotsprings once per week. 

When she walks inside the building, the walls seem to creep so high that she cannot tell where they end, even when craning her head back. She isn't fond of feeling so—trapped. Whatever. Ignoring the pointed look from the librarian, the same as before, a mix of pity and indifference, Sakura sets her eyes on the goal; reading about the different kinds of way one can become a genin. Outside of the utterly impractical Attend Classes one. 

  
Five fucking hours, and no lunch inside the library, later, Sakura is at her wit's end, deep into paperwork and outdated documents which contradict themselves. In a way, that makes sense, it does its job at dissuading people to use a back-alley method to become shinobi. That's not enough to convince her though.

Eventually, painfully, she figures it out. Her mind is akin to mud, and she trips and sinks each time she connects parts of her brain to each other. Thus it's not a surprise that she has to be told to leave because she didn't realize how long she simply sat there, buried in books.

Outside though, as the air of the end of Summer brushes against her face, Sakura is free.

The test has the reputation to be nearly impossible to complete on the first try, and isn't even allowed for refugees or citizens who weren't born in Konoha. Which is beyond unfair to many.

However, there is absolutely no rule which forbides the boys or her from entering. Next Spring, they'll take a stand against—ah not to cause damage inside the village. They only want to prove that they can do it even if they have been told the opposite.

They start training at the Uchiha's compound, which makes sense. Outside of a lone anbu checking on Sasuke from time to time, nobody is going to bother them. Which is both a blessing and a problem, as they have the worst track record at actually studying apparently.

Sakura learned by heart without understanding, Sasuke's biggest challenge is not even chakra reserves it's stepping Outside. And Naru—struggles with reading.

Which is more or less why Sakura ends up punching a tree which was certainly not asking for it, and ending up with splinters inside her knuckles.

She snarls and rage at the impossible feat she pushed on the three of them, and no one is there to judge, outside of two boys who are busy with reading—Sasuke is too stern and seems to hold everyone to such high standards that's not a surprise Naru and him keep on arguing. Thus, she punches a tree.

And then, after removing the wood from her skin, she throws her dress into the pond.

The carps are beyond horrified by this red outrage floating on the surface—Naru makes a vaillant attempt at catching the offense, only to trip and—yeah that's a long day.

In nothing but a sport bra and shorts, Sakura goes on a rampage. The kind which ignores her friends, stepping into the main house to retrieve scissors and she goes hard on her hair.

Huge chunks fall on the floor, in a mess which should be stopped, although she fears that Sasuke is still retrieving Naru from the pond, and thus cannot assist. By the time wet fingers grab her hand, applying pressure until she relents, her hair is shorter than theirs.

Oh. It's an uneven disaster which stares back at her in the window, mouth half-open as her first thought is how disappointed everyone will be. Her hair was the sole good trait about her, after all.  
Fuck that. She can find clippers and simply buzz most of it off. Yeah. Standing by her side, Sasuke hesitantly lifts the scissors a bit to cut a lone strand much longer than the rest.

"I can't fix this."

"Well, guess I have to do with it now," she replies, flatly.

"The ladies at home will make it better," Naru suggests, dripping wet on the floor. Sasuke does shout at him, not that she pays attention. What is she becoming exactly?

Bare toes curl up as she leans forward, staring at her reflection. A wolf, that would be nice. 

Where did this obsession with them started, or when? She cannot remember. 

Turns out that the women in charge of Naru's home are not that horrified by her hair at all. The scars are another matter, and she leaves with a buzz cut and loose clothes. She picks short-sleeves for the first time since she turned eleven, rummaging though donated clothes for a while. 

In return, she promises to bring most of her dresses and all the stuff she doesn't want to wear any longer. That's how it works here. 

Her parents will kill her. 

Sakura can't bring herself to care about their opinion. 

She waits until everyone is asleep to slip in, and only exits her room once they are gone. Following her promise, she delivers the clothes she never picked to the red-light district, to the delight of a couple of children who never got such pretty fabrics before. In a way, Sakura would rather live there too—either be an orphan or a genin for that, and one choice is easier than the other. 

Taijustu is their go-to thing pretty early on. It does helps with testing limits, and also Naru's street brawl style and Sasuke's Uchiha one are widly different from what she studied at the Academy. While they are younger, and thus easier to injure, Sakura quickly learns to simply let go off her mind when she fights. 

Second-guessing herself all the damn time is what made her slow, and a target.

So, when her foot collides with Sasuke's ribcage and he is coughing on the floor, she doesn't feel guilty or monstrous. 

Instead, she tugs him upright, making sure he can breathe properly. They are teammates. Even if it's not official yet. None of them could stand their ground against a real enemy—they are blunt with their attacks, too direct or out of practice. Sakura did not seek training over the past years, and Sasuke was only sparring against thin air—Naru is the fastest, from dodging grabby hands or being the receptable for things thrown at his face too often. 

Meditation takes them to unsavory places, memories playing against their will when they let their thoughts linger. It's also a challenge for any of them to keep their eyes closed with people around. Sasuke, especially, seems on edge each time they make an attempt at meditating in the garden. 

(Her parents do react as if the world had ended, upon finding her wardrobe half-empty and her hair long gone. 

She lowers her head and lets their frustration washes over her without protesting.

If they bothered to look at her, and not at who she is meant to be, they would notice the way her lips are curled into a smirk.)

Most nights, she opts to sleep at the compound. 

No matter how often she is woken up by Sasuke's screams, she braves the shadows to slip inside his room promising that's only her and everything will be fine at some point. She doesn't know where or when. 

To think nobody bothered to get him evaluated by a therapist—

Right at the beginning of Winter, when they chop vegetables unevenly to brew soups hot enough to burn their tastebuds for a while, they decide to clean the compound. Or at least to—make the training grounds more functional that this mess uprooted by wild grass and invasive plants getting in the way. 

It's only when they find themselves freezing and burning at once, the air cold against bare arms, jackets thrown aside due to effort, that they realize they are, once more, doing things wrong. 

Sakura borrows a book on gardening from the library, and she starts taking notes for herself in a small notebook—it's akin to conquering her mind back. To recall how to study and to get invested, instead of wandering aimlessly and hoping for everything to end. She uses gel pens which had collected dust, adding colors and life to her research. 

On a Friday, they step into what was the Uchiha's personal armory. The number of seals on the door is almost as impressive as the stench coming from the inside. People cleaned it, quickly, not as efficiently as they should have. Nobody cared, Sakura realizes as she rips one seal after another.

The place is a mess, and—it's obvious that some clan members ran there to grab a mean to defend themselves, only for it to be insufficient. The boy by her side, gnawing at the back of his hand to repress the urge to throw up, has to step back. 

She doesn't blame Sasuke for that. 

"Take whatever you want," he mumbles, sitting outside. 

"Woah, most of this stuff isn't rusty at all," Brand new shurikens are a bit more than what a child should be holding, not that Naru appears to care, "Is it really fine with you, 'Suke?" 

"Who's going to use any of this? Ghosts?" Comes the sarcastic reply. 

Sasuke is climbing his way out of the tomb he dug, day after another. 

There are countless possibilities there, some quite enticing. Sakura isn't certain of wishing to carry a sword or any sort of blade though. Unless they're claws. Ah she should have more chances to find that within Kiba's clan. 

She can grab enough to fill pouches compulsory to any decent shinobi. 

"Dunno where I'd put it at home," Naru muses by her side. She has seen the small room he shares with another kid. It was clean and bright, albeit tiny. "'Suke, s'okay if I just grab whatever I need when I'm over?" 

"Do as you wish." 

"You're cool, big sis is the best, for bringing us tohether though," and his grin is so genuine that Sakura wants to throw away her constant hatred of most things to wrap him in a bone-crushing hug. 

Ruffling his hair works well enough. 

Sometimes, he nuzzles against her hand like a pup, and that's absolutely adorable. 

Sasuke, on the other hand, keeps on chewing his sleeves or the back of his hands due to anxiety, and that's less cute. In fact, she'd say that he needs to use his teeth on something better. 

Such as people, maybe. Could be a brand new Uchiha thing! Oh, she's getting ahead of herself. 

And it has been years since she got to do so. It feels great. 

Turns out that, when they reach the level of meditation—at least for Sakura and Naru—where they can focus on their chakra and how it feels within them, they realize that there is something wrong with the boy. 

(Sasuke is still at the stage where anyone breathing loudly while he is meditating sends him into hysterics and poor coping mecanisms.) 

"I know where mine starts and ends, even if it's not linear, like the flow is there. Yours is—" She bites the insides of her cheeks, displeased. "The whole sea. It engulfs everything." 

"That's weird, hm. It feels normal to me, it's yours which is empty. No, not like empty, just—tiny. My chakra reserves were always this way! Warm and wrapped around my whole body."

They release each other hands to focus on whatever that could mean. There are oddities about their little trio, that much is certain. Sakura has a clear idea of why, the isolation mostly, although that doesn't justify that detail. 

"Ever messed up with a jutsu?" She inquires, curious and assessing possibilities. "Out of boredom or just to impress people?" In his corner on the room, Sasuke scoffs at her words. 

Good thing she wasn't talking to him. 

"Hey, I'm not—yeah I could have done that, had people, y'know, bothered to teach me, the dead last, anythin'. They didn't. I wanna show them, when we pass the test, that I can do great. "

"Good fucking riddance. Are you certain there isn't anything weird with you?" 

"Outside of the circle thing on my stomach which appears sometimes, nope."

"The what?" 

During a moment, all Sakura can do is digest the words, as Naruto lifts his shirt to reveal a bloody damn seal. Right there. On his body. What is it even used for? No scratch that, why does it exist anyway? You seal scrolls, not people. 

Or maybe Sakura is out of date with fashion trends these days. 

It fades out of existence as Naru takes a deep breath. Apparently making it appearing it on command is challenging. Which is, a bit of a relief, as Sakura has no idea or what's sealed inside of friend. 

"'Was a kid, when it first appeared, someone tried to kidnap me from the orphanage. It's mostly when I'm really tired and can't go on nowadays, the seal, not the kidnapping stuff, then my chakra goes fooooosh and I feel better. I sorta can make it appear when I want, sometimes. More or less. Definitely less." 

In the background, Sakura is certain that Sasuke is on the verge of throwing his book straight into Naru's face. That's the kind of crucial information you do not keep from your friends. 

They're almost our pack, Inner supplies, being as unhelpful as ever. 

She is a teenager, she does not have a pack.   
Yet. 

"What's sealed inside of you?" 

"Is it important?" This time, Sasuke does throw the book. On his bed rather than at his teammate at least. Dramatically, he departs the room, mumbling about the Uchiha library, and they scramble to their feet to follow.

Many shelves are empty, or missing books. Either because they were confiscated or simply lost with time. The room, in a secondary house, reeks of not having been opened enough, and Sakura hopes the books were protected somehow. Or else many might be ruined by the humidity. 

It's only when they are back into Sasuke's bedroom with two books on various aspects of chakra and sealing that she supposes they are going to work on that for the rest of the day. Which is fine with her. 

Naru, whose brain struggles with reading sentences in a fluid manner, mostly paces with newfound anxiety around the room, awaiting for them to say something. As he walks into circles, mouth twisted into a scowl, he opens his mouth more than once, only to close it right after. 

"I mean, I kind of know already," he confesses over fifteen minutes later, "You guys wouldn't like it. Nobody does."

Sakura does mean to slap her book closed. She hates wasting time, ironic considering the past years were filled with her doing exactly that, "The class' listening." 

"No, I can't say it—" 

Throwing her hands up, an air of electricity around her, Sakura awaits for more. For honesty or whatever is available. They promised not to hide anything from each other.

At least she did, in her mind.

(That's a lie.)

"Do we seem to be the kind of people whose goal is to hurt you over a seal?" 

The answer might be a yes, from Naru's expression. 

Eventually, he sits down, beckoning them closer until they are too close, foreheads almost brushing against each other. 

They are a wild mess of elbows locked together and bruises from sparring gone wrong—she didn't mean to trip both of them into the pond, that simply happened, Sasuke cutting his knee open on a rock is an unfortunate consequence—the dim moonlight washing against their backs in some holy protection beyond their grasp.

What Naru confesses over the night, a metaphor of teeth pulled out one after another, explanations for years of pure hatred, it turns Sasuke's veins even colder. 

Sakura is boiling. 

Fine, our pack, our little brothers, whatever you want.   
Inner licks her wounds with a smirk.

Sakura is thirteen and she's weak. 

She's a child who runs laps every morning and learned how to make dorayaki with only minimal dark parts. She's the older sister of a wolf pup and a fox kit. Of a ghost and a monster. 

Her hairs grows back, until she can stand the wind without wearing a knitted hat. 

Sakura is weak, and she fights. 

When their daughter almost died, as fever reduced her brain into a melted puddle, they sought comfort, and help. 

Deep inside the forest, tucked between two trees, an autel covered in moss welcomed them and the corpse they were carrying like the most precious thing.

Turns out that the blessing of a wolf saved a life, and changed the miracle into a burden. Fragment of the pup sacrified by the great creature ended inside the mind of a child who couldn't walk nor talk for weeks.   


Spring arrives, they are not so ready. They push the deadline back to Fall.   
Running away from reality once more. 

At night, Sasuke still wakes up with terror in his eyes and a name burning his tongue. He bites his hands until they are swollen and uncomfortable, living among a graveyard of souls he cannot get rid of. He is quiet between outbursts of sorrow during the day, hesitant to try anything in fear of being the shadow of someone long lost. 

Naru—roots thrown away to reach a brighter future, better a nobody that the village's demon, an Uzumaki never again—dyes his hair every two months, just so he can continue to be free. He throws shuriken so fast that he turns into a blur, clones surrounding him and a sharp voice in a corner of his head. 

The fox is a friend, in the same way Inner is a part of her mind. 

Sakura pushes chakra inside her fingers until it bleeds out into claws. She lunges at her brothers with growing strength, although only fear greets her when she steps inside her childhood home. She wraps her arms around her brothers, whispering how the world could be theirs, the urge to howl at the moon and to conquer inside her blood. 

Her chakra control, near perfect as teachers used to praise her—that's the only time they ever acknowledged her in a positive light—returns. She had merely misplaced that natural knowledge born within her years ago. Her feet dance over the pond, clothes wet and dragging her down with each step. She fell countless times already—still that's not an excuse to stop.

The weak have to try harder at everything, and she curls her chakra against her bare feet, until the balance is steady. 

Running at trees without much success, Naru has returned to his usual meditating posture, reaching towards the friend within him. 

Perhaps the fox wants to set them on the wrong path for his own amusement. Naru believes otherwise, being confident that they have to care for each other.

As for Sasuke, he has been standing in front of the main door for a while. As she is reminded of the Academy—Sakura finds herself under water, a bunch of displeased carps swimming around her until she emerges, gasping for air.

As she shakes herself like a wet dog, Naru doing a terrible job at pretending to be offended by the drops hitting his face, Sakura thinks of a plan. The not-so-great sort that's all she has. She lunges forward, which is becoming easy now that her body is getting enough food and attention, ignoring the dirt soaking her wet soles. 

"Wanna go out with us after training? We can get crepes of whatever's cheap in the red-light district." 

If anything, the kid blanches, turning even more unwell than he usually look. Lack of sun and tendency to brood in his corner, without a doubt. 

"Sasuke, you okay, pal?" Naru slides next to them, casually. 

"He's indeed a bit pale, no need to insist on that, Naru."

The joke is completely lost on Sasuke, who opts to look at them with enough disdain to scare a Jounin. And then, dramatically, he turns around, which is the closest to a 'fuck you guys' they'll get today. 

"Not ready yet." 

"Nope, we'll wait."

They are too young to feel like they are running out of time, aren't they? Sakura stretches for a while, muscles sore from water walking. That's not even on the list of what they have to master—she gets distracted at times, that's all. The urge ro to throw herself into the closest thing she can grab. 

Sakura is thirteen and she barely goes home any longer.

No, the compound is her home now. Eerie and old, filled with ghosts and regrets. Just like her! 

Inner finds it funnier than she does.

Sakura isn't there on the day where things get into motion, when the world says enough, reminding them of deeds they ought to be liable for. Or perhaps she is. Only a bit late, legs sore and groceries in two bags. 

The official runs past her without as much as an apology for colliding against her shoulder and she feels like grabbing his stupid green jacket and force him to turn around, snarling in his face. 

Or much worse, she decides when her gaze crosses with Sasuke's. Defiance shines in his eyes, tear-strained cheeks and blood against his teeth. His, judging by the piece missing on the back of his hand. 

A quick assessment of the scene tells her to rip apart the chunin from seconds earlier.

Her brother is the priority though—he is in the middle of the muddy street, monsoon having left deep puddles they can't avoid even by walking on water. 

"They heard about me, about us. The Council is—" 

Our enemy, Inner supplies.

"They want me back, at the Academy, since I've made some much progress. Told me I could pass the standard test and get assigned into a team right away. They didn't even care about you, or Naru. It was all about me and the sharigan—I only have it after nightmares, who would want that thing which activates depending on my pain?"

Does he realize he walked outside, presumably to chase the official off the property? Sakura isn't sure. That's a gamble she doesn't want to toy with, fearing to seriously harm him in the process. There was no word of therapy or guidance in the speech he was given, she's certain.

"Let's talk about it at home, here help me to carry the groceries." She shops as far as possible from the house for her stamina, which means her arms are killing her right now. Hard to strangle some random chunin with her arms full! She hands out the bags, ignoring blood dripping in a puddle at Sasuke's feet, or the way he hasn't stopped crying silently. 

She waits, smile twisting her face into something feral and wrong—he accepts to take one. That's something. Good enough. 

Once in the kitchen, Naru away at work—she doesn't truly knows where, he goes from one part-time job to another—it's only the two of them. She'd like to have her pup brothers around all the time, to keep an eye on them. 

Not healthy. 

Grabbing Sasuke's hand, she licks the gash while making eye contact, ensuring he knows that she is here and she cares. Fuck what people would say when they sleep together in a nest of blankets, limbs tangled and messy hair. Fuck their lack of care which causes one of them to stay awake sometimes, in fear of an attack, of losing the others.

They aren't right, messed up brats who practices justu beyond their grasp because no one bothered to be there to teach them. She nibbles at Naru's neck something, and he nuzzles against her in return. They may not have the same mother, but they are one forever and even after that. 

She licks the tears away too, ignoring the eyes bleeding red in front of her. 

"I loathe how they use my name as a leverage for the good of the village. Konoha has only given me a damn heartache and nothing to soothe it. I live th the midst of graves, for they couldn't bother removing the bloods and remains properly—and they preach loyalty to me? Hypocrites!"

"They won't change us, and if they were to get rid of one to make space for cowardice and lies, the others would raise hell. We're a pack," and she hands him the sharpest knife she finds so they can male dinner properly. 

One day, the feast will be made out of their enemies.

That's a promise.   
Sasuke sniffles, wiping his tears away with a sleeve.

"It's what I told him, with less killing intend—" He manages a weak smirk and pride washes over her, "My goal is to protect you too, sis." 

Aw, that's the first time he called her sister, that's so heartwarming. She feels obligated to jump on him to pinch his cheeks in the most annoying way possible. 

When they register for this six hours long test that they have to go through to prove they can be genin, They do not add last names on paper. That's not unheard of, children of prostitutes or kids thrown from clans for a lack of bloodline attributes having to resort to this method. For the Uchiha to do that though, it must be similar to giving the middle finger to the Hokage and poisoning his tea. 

Sakura has less problems, as she is more or less disowned. Not officially because his parents don't want to look bad, that's all. Her hair covers her ears again, although it doesn't go much lower than that, and she has bangs as you cannot erase years of trauma with a couple of good months. Not enough to please her parents, which is fine. Inner is her sister and herself, and she has the boys. 

Naru's identity as an Uzumaki completely goes above the chunin in charge of the admission papers. Which is odd, as Sakura guess they must have made some sort of effort to track for little monster. Apparently not so well. Or they believe he's beyond salvation, or too easy to win back. Whatever. 

When they deliver their files to the instructors, inside the Academy, she bites her cheeks so hard that her smile is bloody and uncomfortable for everyone involved. 

Stepping inside wasn't that hard! 

It only wrecked her for a while, no big deal. She has to feel Naru's hand inside the small of her back to avoid running away. 

How she wants to.

"Sakura?" 

She doesn't falter, two weeks before the date, when she accidentally walks into an old friend. The sole friend she had, a lifetime ago, when she was weeping over insults which felt tame in comparison to the scars running across her arms and the weight she has to carry on her shoulders. 

"Ino, been a while, how have you been?" 

Shock is painted on the girl's face and the possibilities are endless. Did she think she would disappear or simply get better after giving up on becoming a shinobi? Is it how it works, for clan heirs? Sakura wants to throw her head back and laugh. 

Instead, she offers a smile which is only polite in name, head titled to the side. 

"G-great, I got promoted chunin last Spring." 

"I'm so happy for you," her giggling sounds off, personas merging into a being she cannot recognize. Sakura presses two fingers against her lips, in fake nonchalance, "I registered for the outliner genin test in a couple of weeks with my teammates. After all this time, I ought to do something right." 

"Teammates?" 

"Made friends other than you, that's surprising?" 

"No. Actually, that's great? I mean—yeah it is, forehead." 

The old nickname doesn't bring much comfort. She grins anyway, a part of herself missing Ino deeply, no matter what. They drifted apart due to her own heart being unable to handle anything, and while the rest wasn't her fault, Sakura has guilt gnawing at her heart like Sasuke is always on the verge of scarring his hands. 

"Ino-pig~" She taunts back, remembering birthday parties and how they were free of being whatever they wanted before the Academy. Nowadays, they are both on parallel paths not meant to cross any longer.

She resists the urge to wrap her arms around the girl, just one last time, and takes her leave without waiting for her heart to betray her instead. 

They have planted tomatoes, and a couple of vegetables, over the year. The result is—some plants have grown well, others died without a warning and they have no idea what caused it. 

That's when Sakura regrets not having rekindled her bond with Ino, as she has a green thumb better than hers.

Too late.

They go on a mission to buy soil from a farmer, probably alongside a delivery fee—money isn't trouble as Sakura's parents send her enough for food and Sasuke's funds are a sight to behold. Which doesn't mean they simply buy whatever they see. In fact, they are rather frugal, outside of the giant frog in Naru's bedroom, or Sakura's collection of various study books on any topic she deems interesting. Sasuke only asked for them to produce tomatoes in the cleaned and free of weeds, until next season, garden. 

Easy, right? Not quite.

Most farmers accept to sell soil and even to deliver, without asking any question about their garden. To Naru, it means they have no idea what they are doing, or that they want to scam them. 

Growing among gamblers and thieves taught the kid a lot about fraudulent business.

They do find a great couple who, upon seeing these wild children with mismatched clothes and a pounch filled with money, decides that, why the hell not. After sitting together, drinking lemonade, for two hours and talking about what they want to grow and why—apparently that matters, they get a solid start. 

Which also means that they have to move everything they planted because nothing is facing in the right direction. A bummer.

Their garden is a mess of mismatched things growing awkwardly, which would be a great metaphor for them, if thet cared about these things.

Instead, Naru bites in a fresh tomato and Sasuke hits him for not washing it first—not in the pond, you absolute fool!

Sakura laughs.

On rainy days, as they quiz each other on the upcoming test, she paints their nails, adding glitter for Naru and dark colors to please Sasuke, and hers with vibrant pink because even if there'll be blood and dirt underneath them doesn't mean she isn't allowed to enjoy herself before the thrill of the hunt.

They arrive right on time, stomachs filled with the healthiest breakfast they could manage, rice porridge and orange juice, and they stand in front of the Academy as one, trembling fingers holding onto each other, raised chins and faked confidence. 

Sakura remembers being younger, reeking of the stench of vomit and praying that the building would vanish on his own, if only for one day, so she could go home without creating an excuse. 

Against her neck, her youngest brother whispers about strength and the ramen they'll eat afterwards. 

Against her palm, two squeezes from a boy whose eyes are more valuable than his personality. 

Against her lips, canines shine as she strolls inside, tugging them along. They will pass, she can tell.

If they refuse, she'll make them accept their existence. 

That's the will of her heart, the courage of the wolf. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is that I planned on giving up on this story, as I often tend to do—but I kicked my ass to write that second chapter so I wouldn't disappoint. Thanks for your comments, I'll reply to them at some point I swear. I'm just low on energy.

Hearing that he has a team leaves Kakashi tired—that's not the first failure they push onto him, nor the last. Usually, they assign him the worst mix they find, with the unspoken command to fail them for the village' sake. He does so without a second thought, either due to the kids being incompetent or to spare them the heartbreak of being a shinobi and leaving behind a trail of regrets. 

He remembers jolting awake more than once, arm going through a teammate's body only for his pack to climb on top of him until he'd fall back asleep. In retrospect, not what you expect from a person in charge of kids. Thus Kakashi is fated to fail one team after another if only because he has no clue of how to be a teacher. 

That works fine, as the Council is as competent as Gai during a stealth mission, which is a joke, as Gai is oddly great at everything he puts his mind into. 

Kakashi is a bit jealous, when all he ends up being is a guilt-ridden twenty-six years old who can't even put his laundry in the washing machine and not the dryer when he's tired. 

The cycle repeats itself (not the washing machine, the one with him and genin teams), much to his dismay. 

He has never gotten a team which passed the Academy without attending the compulsory classes. Sure, there are so-called prodigies, like him, or Itachi. Half turning unstable and out of their mind within years, the rest stuck in a life picked for them. Kakashi could be content to be in the second category, alas that seems like a meager win. 

  
  


Thus, he goes in with a hint of curiosity, surprised by the first names standing next to blanks. The Hokage attempts to give him a head-start, something about the importance of the Uchiha and he tunes him out, thank you very much. 

If the kid refused to add his last name, he must have a reason. 

While he would usually spy on his uncute little kids, he doesn't do so this time around. Oh, don't get Kakashi wrong, he does the bare minimum, aka checking where they live. He doesn't intrude though, doesn't even talk to guardians—not that there is any listed in the first place—and waits to see who they are. 

Since the team was formed on their own will, he assumes they'll have a hint of cooperation going on. The opposite would be a pity. He considers the bell test, only to scrap that idea faster than Pakkun scolds him when he is being inconsiderate of his own health. That would be a waste on kids who are already used to care for each other. 

They share a house—not the most appropriate choice, considering the compound still has stains from when Itachi decided to decimate his clan—they even have this pitiful thing which is probably a garden. Genma would laugh in his face if he heard his thoughts. It is true that Kakashi hasn't seen many vegetables over the past months. 

He ought to upgrade from ration bars at some point. It can wait until tomorrow, or next month. That's why his body is so fucked up, probably. 

Kakashi, being a sad excuse for an instructor, honestly he wouldn't want himself as his teacher, manages to send a note to the kids indicating when and where they'll meet. That sounds fair, it gives them space. 

Apparently they need that—judging by what the report cards have to say about the 'Feral Children' who managed to either ace or fail at everything with absolutely no in-between. The worst is that he does believe they didn't fuck up on purpose. 

  
  


Here is what he does; he arrives on time, only to leave without being seen once the kids appear in the distance. That's a small test, not as dramatic at what he usually does, as Kakashi is only late by one hour. What greets him aren't a bunch of angry and spoiled brats berating him for his laid-back attitude. 

In a way, that would make keeping a distance between them easier. 

Nope, his newfound team has decided to study in his absence, and why the hell are they walking on water as if that was perfectly normal when they failed some basic questions about chakra control on their tests? 

"Yo!" 

"Hi, we kept ourselves busy, hope you don't mind!" The girl shouts from where she is standing in the middle of the river, unbothered by the current running between her feet. 

Sakura. Oldest. Turned fourteen not long ago—her file is filled with details from the Academy which don't match with the girl in front of his eyes. Teachers wrote down know-it-all and vain who won't make it alive, too weak minded. And there are a couple of innocent lines which scream of bullying and mistreatment. The scars jagging her arms tell more than this useless file he should have burned. 

"Ah, that's good, you didn't remain idle and bored, isn't it?~" 

"How could we, on training grounds? We finally have an open space to challenge ourselves!" 

She's wearing a loose sleeveless black dress with a hood, and a front pocket he suspects filled with sharp objects, considering how both hands are deep into it. There is a headband, wrapped around her upper arm, he almost missed it. That's not what takes Kakashi out of guard though. Nope, it's her smell—that's closer to his pack, to something wild and impossible to cage—when she grins, canines too sharp for a human and green eyes with blue at the edges, all he sees is a wolf dressed as a young girl. 

She jumps back onto the riverbank. His suspicions arise when she takes her hands out, and he notices she created claws out of chakra—how great is her chakra control?! That's way above what a genin should be able to produce. He swallows his doubts—prodigies are not meant to last, even less to go unnoticed. 

They vanish as fast as they appeared, not that it gives him any relief. 

That's the same girl who almost flunked her written exam when they were shown pictures and asked to describe what the person on each was feeling—for almost every smiling face, she wrote down rage. 

Introductions are in order, and so is the need to challenge the girl for a run, luring the wolf out to see what she can do—oh no, he might have a soft spot for these children. 

"I'm your teacher, Kakashi—" 

"We already know that, oh hello," the smaller boy adds as an afterthought, and why the hell do these children have so many scars? That's the kind of reminders they should be hiding in shame, at that age. Rather than exposing them to the world as if they were all they had. 

It's what he does with his own guilt, the child of Minato and Kushina looking at him without much care, distance in his gaze. 

Kakashi has failed everyone, hasn't he? 

And this kid, oversized shirt and arms crossed behind his head, is the main tragedy of Konoha. Catching Kakashi's solemn expression, Naru(to) simply stares back. He's missing one tooth on the side of his mouth and—damn, they are so young. 

Peace or not, there should be limitations to the horror allowed to spread, to children turned into human sacrifices for a greater good. Ah, that's rich from him, who is also part of that. Like Iruka, like the Hokage. They're all part of the same shitshow. 

"Hi, let's sit down so we can get to know each other," he suggests. 

Come on, it's only a team. What could go wrong?

  
  


Sakura's dream is to rip her enemies to shreds, or to be a wolf. Why not not both, Naru's laughter is lighthearted, she nuzzles against the top of his head. 

"What I love the most is spending time with my brothers, and I hate—not being taken seriously."

"I wanna be as cool as big sis! Which is a goal, right? And—we started cooking a bit, which is fun, we aren't good or anything, but that counts as a hobby."

Sasuke doesn't bother opening his mouth, sitting with his back to his sister's. 

There is something amiss with these kids. 

Kakashi tells them to be there at seven the next morning. 

  
  


"I used to think I could be better," Naruto announces. He lost a shoe during training, and hasn't bothered putting it back on, sucking on the straw of his pouch drink instead. 

The sun shines against his face, forcing the kid to squint a bit, and Kakashi isn't certain of what's happening. 

Maybe he's meant to say something, to deny that statement. Although he has no idea what the boy is trying to say, as if people's emotions had always been off limits. He's left with only a hum escaping his lips underneath a mask which swallows his voice. 

'Go on' would do. Or 'I'm sorry the village couldn't be kind'. There is 'we were instructed to keep our distances, that you would figure out kindness on your own' too. Sort of pitiful. Kakashi buries his grief alongside friends and enemies—an array of bodies he can feel underneath his feet. 

"Wanna know what I dye my hair? You haven't asked 'bout it yet. Come to think of it, ya' don't ask much." 

That's true. He never bothered to dig beyond what he heard on that first day. They show up on time, sharing meals. Some days, it's only Naru and Sakura, the latter with bandaged fists and a storm in his eyes. Naru has part-time jobs interfering with D ranks or training from time to time. He apologizes, mock-sincere, before vanishing once more. 

For all intents and purposes, they are far from a team. 

A family—so deeply bonded that Sakura can answer for her siblings without doing as much as blinking. While Kakashi would like to praise their connection, it turns them indulgent of their own flaws. 

Sasuke remains at home half of the week, startled by a mere passerby on the way, or simply unwilling to go through the trial of walking there. 

Kakashi is unsure of how to process—he considered whisking them away in the middle of the night, dumping that mismatched trio in the woods and letting them make their way home before the sun would get the chance to rise. How could he? They reek of doubt and trauma so blunt they are reeling from damage done years ago. 

"Why do you dye your hair, Naru?" His mouth moves eventually, and he crouches in front of the boy. Today, they worked on taijustu, and he has a bruise against his collarbone, red and pulsing. 

"So the villagers wouldn't kill me."

He curses Sarutobi, alongside everyone else, even himself. 

"They sorta tried to—that's why I left the orphanage, ran away and they never came for me."

The pouch drink is empty, which doesn't bother the boy busy blowing into the straw to fill it with air. 

Kakashi is aware of the history behind that, how the Hokage deemed the path of their cursed child a lesson that he would learn in time. He expected Naru to run back, tail between his legs, all for the promise of his own flat and loneliness. 

Somehow, Kakashi wonders if it wasn't too simple to forget about the son of Kushina for everyone, to consider him as a memory of the past. 

"T'was after the scars, some adults caught me, decided to show me I was a real monster." 

The whiskers used to be precious, and now, as they have turned as claws that Kakashi recognizes as a kunai running against cheeks to reach the jaw, they are nothing but the reminder of horror. 

Naru takes his silence without a complaint, engulfing it with this weird energy he always carries, hands bouncing and bruises ignored. They're children, they should be safe in a den, away from prying hands and—that's not possible, when you're shinobi. Kakashi hesitates, hand stilling in the air before it can ruffle black hair. 

Maybe the time hasn't come yet. 

"Are you aware—of the history behind your condition?" That's a miserable way to formulate what he's certain the child knows already.

"Oh, these men, they didn't—the fox was super mad. He talked to me. He does that some'imes. It's fine, like firm but not cruel? The opposite of you, who're light and not that funny and a liar."

Kakashi should have failed them. He struggles to do more than suffocating on the lies that he does indeed carry with him. 

"You're not a monster, Naru. That's all I can tell you."

"Ah, I believe you, you're sincere right now after all!"

Turns out, growing up in the red light district, watching drama unfolding from the kitchens or in dark alleys, that teaches you a couple of life skills. Such as being able to pinpoint liars and traitors without a second glance. 

In an odd way, Kakashi feels relieved. Of course he has a lot to confess to Naru regarding his parents and the world as a whole. That can wait for another evening though. He created the option for a follow-up which is better than nothing. 

  
  


Back at his flat, he sits in the bathroom and stays in the warmth of the bath until his skin is boiled and his mind empty. 

  
  


Distraught. That's how he would define the Uchi-Sasuke. While he first appeared uncaring and distant, it's obvious it's a result of being on his own in the midst of a graveyard for so long. Konoha should do better, Kakashi reminds himself when he only has two children to train for the day. 

He closes his book, hauling the pack back to the compound. No use in leaving one child behind, especially when his absence leaves his siblings unsteady and missing a vital part of themselves. 

The gentle glow of morning has grown eerie in the small kitchen with memories long gone. Breakfast is a quiet affair in which Kakashi slips without thinking, heating miso soup and grilling fish in the pan. 

Later, he'll go into town to find a cheap rice cooker—maybe a couple of aprons judging by the stains on Sasuke' shirt. He is quick to make a face at the grease from the sunny side eggs, leaving the room to get changed. While turning around to make sure Kakashi isn't planning on planting a kunai in his back. 

He's the adult—they are all, technically, although Kakashi knows better than to trust laws written when war was still raging. That's his job to protect this kid. 

(The screams have never completely left his mind, heavy memory of the battlefield.) 

"Have you thought about specializations," he inquires while Sakura is swallowing pieces of fish without bothering to chew, "while they aren't that common for a bunch of genin like you, they can help you to decide on your career path later in life." Cool he sounds so boring when he is basically reciting the handbook he got back as a kid. 

The three share a look, Sakura assessing the situation for the group. 

"I want to focus on my chakra, since my control is near perfect to turn myself into—more. " 

The feral little girl explains, before jerking her chopsticks towards Sasuke. To his credit, the boy doesn't flinch at the aggression, barely scoffing at his sister's lack of manners. 

"Undecided. Naru?" 

"That's way too hard, I wanna test everything until I find my footing." 

Kakashi nods in understanding. They have time, don't they? 

(Maybe not.) 

  
  


Offerings are a tricky business. Especially as the inhabitants of the forest are not meant to be worshipped any longer. They went from deities to abnormalities. Since he's Hakate—a clan almost extinct once brought to life by a pact between nature and men—he has a vague idea of what ought to be done nonetheless. 

He considers going on his own, the fresh kill of dawn wrapped with care in his hands, only to do otherwise. At some point, Sakura will be confronted to the heritage running through her veins, better do it now than later, when she cannot pinpoint the line between humanity and instinct. 

Kakashi gets them out with the excuse of practice, leaving the guards without much interest towards the pack almost bouncing their way into the vast territory surrounding their tiny home. Even Sasuke, wide-eyed, hand firmly grasping his sister', is dragged into the glory of the adventure. 

The forest grows around them, roots slithering between their ankles, sun barred from doing more than shining through leaves and trees almost reaching the sky. That's odd, to walk rather than travel from one branch to another. It makes Kakashi feel exposed, as if anything could spot them from above. 

Wolves have no respect from the ones who refuse to get their level, disregarding humans' notion of safety. After all, if they wanted to be intimidating, they could have grown their teeth and stopped using only two legs out of four to run. 

(He went to talk to Sakura's human parents the other night, got a door slammed in his face and vicious threats slipping out coated in honey. Needless to say, he'd rather drink tea with the couple owning the group home where Naru spent a couple of years. At least, the two women were pleasantly eager to have him over. 

And deeply concerned as orphans are often considered as lacking value for the village. He assured them that it wouldn't be the case with Naru, albeit for reasons which aren't ideal either.)

The altar is hidden by moss, long forgotten—his breathing grows heavy as he recalls his father carrying him on his shoulders as they came there together. Ah, he thought the memory had been tucked beyond reach. 

Perhaps not. 

Unfolding the cloth, he spreads it on the large rock, showing the rabbit he caught before meeting with the kids as proof of his intentions. May they be right and guide his heart, or so his father used to say. 

There was more to the ritual, back then. Hands joined, still basked in the thrill of the hunt, blood underneath fingernails. 

Digging her soles in mud, Sakura is staring at the altar as if it could bring her every answer she always demanded.

Kakashi, who braces himself for disappointment at everything these days, doesn't share the sentiment. If they become the prey, long chase exhausting children not used to running away while looking back, he isn't certain of what could happen. 

After a while, as he hears Sasuke counting softly by his side, hands clenching his shirt, an imposing figure appears. 

Fur once white and now grayed by age, the wolf barely pays them attention, grabbing the rabbit in its jaw. It makes a terrible crunching sound, enough for Sakura to grin and Sasuke to cover his ears with both hands, whereas Naru simply observes as he often does. 

The creature, too gigantic to be completely a product of nature, or rather something recent—animals have been robbed of a part of their senses, reduced to being chased from their home and forgotten—swallows the rabbit whole. 

"An acceptable offering," it tells them, and his students take a step back at the voice, which seems to come from everywhere around them at once. 

Kakashi, rusty and impressed at once, merely bows. 

"We're glad you are pleased." 

What the fuck is supposed to happen now? Should he introduce Sakura, say 'hey, remember the child her parents brought so you could save her'. That's all the couple told him, although they did insist on how the wolf had corrupted their daughter's mind. It's likely they did not read the terms and conditions thoroughly.

The girl doesn't need him to wrestle inner demons, as she braces herself for what's to come by stepping forward. Naru does jerk a hand towards her, and Kakashi has to catch it so he doesn't interrupt. 

Jaw wide open in a yawn, which is terrifying honestly, the wolf allows the intruder to approach. No doubt it could tear her apart with only one bite. 

Kakashi has to repress an urge to run, snatching his student away so she isn't harmed. Instead, he has to tell himself that he has played his part already—why is caring so exhausting? He can barely wriggle a coherent thought out of his mind right now. 

As the wolf looks down at this bundle of scars and pink hair, his heart misses a beat. 

And then, the large head simply—presses over Sakura's head, letting out a soft sound. 

"You've returned the lost daughter of mine." 

"Mother?" And the voice isn't Sakura's, although it does come from her mouth. It's rougher, deeper than the usual tone he has grown used to. And the wolf steps back to rejoice in the sight of her daughter back where she was born. 

"My child, I have been waiting."

"I wasn't told of your existence, of—enough. I'm part of the girl and she's a part of me, I'm the wolf and she is, because I am."

The words flow between her lips, and although he cannot see her face, he pictures the scorn between her brows, the way her canines show as she bares her teeth. 

"The humans came, pleading me to save their only child. She was dying from a fever with no cure, born too weak to endure it. And so was my own daughter, tiniest of the pack and unable to open her eyes properly or to chew the food she was offered. Thus, I told them I would save their child in order to do the same with mine," as she tilts her head backward, howling in what Kakashi supposes to be melancholy, the bushes around them start to become agitated. 

Soon, three creatures emerge, one with a scar across its face, another with a tail cut in half and they rejoice around this little sister which feels so feeble against their fur. Men have done unspeakable things to the forest, to everything inside it. To expand, to grow in power. 

Kakashi had not felt ashamed about that for a long time. Ah, that sort of visit isn't kind to his old heart. 

As Sakura runs fingers across her siblings' bodies, her rightful mother, the one who has loved her—and bonded her soul with another—comes to Kakashi, sitting right next to him. 

"Let your remaining cubs go wild, my children won't harm them," and he relents his grip on Naru. Gently. The boy, after bowing to the wolf, and whispering something with his eyes turning red for one second, Kakashi pretending not to see it, happily runs to Sakura. 

Coercing Sasuke into leaving his side, him who probably never came that far out of Konoha, takes more time. 

"Little one, what are you afraid of?" 

You. Everything. I don't know, his eyes seem to say. 

The wolf nudges him, her jaw bigger than his body, and he hides next to Sakura. Not quite behind her, a hint of pride not crushed, although he isn't able to lift his gaze. 

  
  


It's an eventful day—Kakashi does worry when the wolves nibble at Sakura' skin more than they should as they chase each other. They don't do more than that though, and the bleeding is minimal. 

Still. 

"What's the first thing a shinobi should do?" he asks them, as another test. 

The rice cooker is buzzing gently behind them, Naru tip-toeing with his hands on the counter, watching the seconds until dinner going down one after another. 

"Buy good weapons," he replies right away, not bothering to turn around.

Still relinquishing her encounter with the other side of her family, fingers tracing the playful teeth which could have plunged much deeper into her shoulder, Sakura stares directly at Kakashi. 

"Protect the pack."

That's almost—who is he kidding, that's an excellent reformulation of his 'People who abandon their teammates are trash' motto. 

"Draft their will," Sasuke whispers, causing everyone to turn their gaze. Sitting against the wall, chin hanging in his knees, he shrugs noncommittally, "Itachi had to do that. In case he wouldn't come back. I still have his, somewhere."

You don't open the will of people who might return. 

The boy jerks, body itching to bolt out of there. Toes curled, Sasuke doesn't abandon them though. 

"That's not what I had in mind, although it's compulsory to do so before departing on a B rank or above. And Naru, in a way, that's also true. Sakura's the one who gave the closest answer. You need to work as a team to be one. So your first task should be to figure out how to be a balanced group."

The rice cooker lets out a bip to indicate it's done, followed by Naru's 'I'm taking care of it!'. For a moment, as Kakashi stares at the table filled with what they cooked, he has this warm feeling spreading through his chest. 

"I'll protect them," Sakura confides, "Teach me to be the one at the front, wrecking anybody in my way. For their sake." 

Oh, that's new. Less revenge-oriented than during their last conversation. He's glad. 

The others will figure their way of life too. 

  
  


Nightmares aren't odd. They're a constant he learned to do with years ago, when he was a chill alone in a house he left as soon as he could in fear of ghosts. That's why he wakes up surrounded by his loyal pack more often than not. 

However, that night, the sobs wrecking the silence aren't his. Disoriented, he stares at the ceiling of a place where he doesn't belong (what would Obito say? Too much, if it's akin to his dreams). He recalls staying over just because the kids asked. 

Feeling welcome, that's new and not as terrible as he feared. 

His steps are heavy with sleep as he finds his way to Sasuke's room. He's not surprised to find his siblings already there, silent protection against the world. 

The smell of blood attracts his attention and he notices a deep mark on Sasuke's cheek—considering the red coating his trembling fingers, he injured himself with his nails in his sleep. Or after, to chase away a possible illusion layered in front of his eyes. 

Itachi. Why did he have to cause such damage only to flee, leaving a wreck behind him and no way to fix it. Gently, he lifts the child, one arm underneath his knees the other around his shoulders. 

The wound does look nasty, and he isn't keen on discovering Sasuke is behind on his vaccinations from being a recluse.

"The clinic," he articulates, and his other kids are great. One goes to get Sasuke's jacket and the second his shoes and he's proud of them, "Thank you. Sasuke can you walk?" 

The unfocused gaze coupled with muffled sobs suggest that nope, he better carry him there. 

  
  


There are sayings, about strength and never breaking down; they don't amount to much, when Kakashi is waiting with bleary neon lights above him, plastic chair wincing each time he tries to adjust his posture. He convinced Naru and Sakura to return to their beds, sleep being another matter. 

For the past hour, they have been sitting there, Sasuke and him, tears long wiped away with fingers shaking with anger. Not the sort Sakura carries, brutal and unleashed against anybody coming too close. Sasuke's emotions are more insidious, unspoken horror he swallows down until he's choking. 

The nurses and doctors don't pay them much attention, walking around on auto-pilot, awaiting the relief of dawn and the end of their shift. Kakashi has no fondness for hospitals, for apologies and pre-made sentences which sound empty from having been tossed around too much. 

His gaze drifts towards the clock as if it were going backward only to piss him off. 

"Uchiha Sas'ke!" Finally. 

He gets up, encouraging the child curled onto himself on the chair to do the same. Sasuke's eyes are filled with—sorrow, unwanted memories still hiding in the shadows. 

He drags his feet into the examination room, the gash on his cheek surrounded by smeared blood. 

"Training?" the student, his nametag surrounded by green sprouts and 'Inazuka Kiba' on it, asks, and Kakashi shakes his head. 

Could have been, but he doesn't push his students beyond the boundaries they pile around them to avoid the world. 

"Cool," the young man, not much older than Sakura for sure, looks up with a sharp grin. "'Kay, Sas'ke, I'm going to clean your wound, and then I'll use medical chakra to close it. It'll feel cold, and you might need stitches, just in case. Any question?" 

Kakashi watches his student blink slowly, taking his surroundings into account. The faint nod is much better than how badly he dissociated earlier. 

Therapy shouldn't be out of order, pride doesn't trample the need for basic comfort. Kakashi recalls Hiruzen, staring down at him with disdain at the mention of the boy struggling to go out on his own. 

That's something he has to outgrown, nothing else was said.

He's seething in the same way Sakura does when Naru mentions learning to hide his scars with genjustu, when people assume she won't amount to anything because of her own marks engraved against her skin. 

"What happened to your arm?" 

The question causes him to focus on the young healer, whose laughter is closer to a bark. When he turns around, Kakashi can see the folded sleeve on his left side. 

"Akamaru, my dog, snatched it away while we were playing and it broke—oh shit, you mean—ah I was talking about my wooden prosthesis! See, I lost half of my arm on a mission, a couple of years ago. Some bullshit in Kiri, you know how it is, hm?" 

Kakashi has heard about that—Kurenai's kids almost died after all. A C rank turned A rank due to the client's lies. That shaken her; the council couldn't have cared less. 

"My team disbanded not long after—" 

"Is it why you became a medic?" 

"Yeah? No. Sorta," while his hand glows, the cut closing itself partially, Kiba gives a noncommittal shrug, "B'fore it was common for each team to have one, and somehow, I was there for physical therapy and I told myself 'hey maybe you could have made a difference, you moron!' next thing I knew, I started an apprenticeship."

Kakashi notices Sasuke mumbling the 'you could have made a difference' part to himself. Should he intervene to dispute that claim, to narrate how Itachi slaughtered everyone so perfectly that it's almost impossible, that it doesn't make sense, and yet nobody could have survived?

Exhaustion instructs him to remain silent. 

The conversation goes on for a moment, until the needle has to pierce the cheek to ensure the wound will heal properly and not reopen itself. Kiba doesn't push the topic of the injury, ignoring the blood still present on Sasuke's hand.

It's obvious it was self-inflicted, leaving Kakashi at a loss of what to do. Night terrors so strong are not compatible with being a shinobi and missions outside of the village. Ah, to be fair, many details about his students are this way. He can't simply teach them to henge into better versions of themselves and pretend that trauma isn't still there.

"All done!" the band-aid has little sunflowers on it, and in Konoha, a genin is considered an adult, and an Uchiha a weapon; Kiba doesn't care for either truth. He ruffles Sasuke's hair, pushing it back to smile at the boy, in a way that Kakashi wouldn't dare to attempt.

He has done wrong countless times already, losing everyone around him—of course he's beyond salvation, can't love or be loved. At least, that's more comfortable to live this way rather than admit he refuses to let these children go through the same thing, that he'll fight for them until he cannot stand.

Sasuke being discharged, with a prescription for sleeping pills tucked in his pocket, they walk back to the compound, getting assaulted right away by Sakura, nose scrunched.

"You smell like disinfectant," she complains, before dragging her brother back inside the room they'll share for the night.

And Kakashi stands there, unsure of where he stands, of how far his flat is meant to be.

"Come on, stay," a soft voice suggests, and he finds Naru sitting on the porch, a cheeky expression on his face.

"My poor body couldn't carry me back to my place anyway~"

"Liar again. That's okay, maybe you'll learn to be funny one day."

Naru nods wisely, leaping forward and slipping his small hand in Kakashi's.

  
  
  


He never considered himself as a potential teacher, failing kids so he wouldn't have to step into such role. There must be a balance, between making them run and climb, sitting with Naru for hours and filling the gap of a shitty education, explaining to Sakura that turning herself into a wolf would be akin to learning a forbidden jutsu with no coming back, encouraging Sasuke to run errands without melting into panic.

Kakashi watches as they grow more confident, as the stares from the villagers don't falter anyway.

He takes them to the Memorial Stone, bringing his guilt along. Obito is brought up, and alongside his memory the sharingan and old stories which were buried deep into his heart.

He whispers, once he has crouched down, hands running through white hair, how fierce Naru's mom was, how he misses Rin and he doesn't want to ever see Sakura as her or the others are Obito and him.

"You're yourself, you cannot be someone else. People will say otherwise, don't listen."

They sit on the ground, calling him an old sap, one on each side, and Sasuke behind, guarding their teacher as if an enemy could jump out of nowhere.

Ah, who knows? This damn village has been a dumpster fire over the past decade.

  
  


On the day he gets his stitches removed, Sasuke returns with a form for a medical apprenticeship. Nothing as permanent as Kiba's. It's more of a beginner course which is offered for free to every genin if they wish to learn. The downside is that it lasts two months, and is pretty intensive.

Thus, most children are discouraged to pursue that path unless they are completely sure of their specialization.

"I know," Sasuke starts, holding the piece of paper in front of him, "I couldn't have done anything—and he told me to hate him and become stronger. You said—that we weren't other people, only us. And I'm not Itachi. I'll never be him."

"Well, you seem to have found your resolve," he replies, lightly, as if he wasn't so proud of Sasuke for avoiding the path of revenge.

  
  


The Hokage is displeased to have the last Uchiha working on being a medic, even if it's nothing permanent yet, and the next meeting goes as well as Kakashi has grown to expect.

He represses the urge to growl, like his feral pup would do when in distress, to maul the man and every single person around him at once. 

Kakashi simply promises to encourage his children to blossom as well as they can under his care. 

Nobody ever mentions Sakura, and Naru's existence is paved with reminders of not letting his parentage slip out. 

Too late. 

Kakashi leaves, counting days until the next report he has to make, wondering how many fences can be painted and cats retrieved before he has to worry about everything falling apart. 

  
  


His flat is devoid of colors, of anything worthwhile. He is surrounded by clothes he never wears, and meals left to rot because he forgets they are even in the fridge. Kakashi knows on which day the hot water will come out akin to ice because he won't have turned it back on upon returning, or the smell of pillows which beg to be washed always hanging in the air. 

He stops going, bringing one single box to the Uchiha compound one day, without anything else. 

"Easier to keep an eye on you that way." 

They immediately fuss over which room to give him, and he's given a formal tour of the place. Sasuke comes to a halt in front of Itachi's room, palm spread against the wood. 

"Not this one," is all he says, and that's progress, for him not to flee in fear. 

The Hakate had a property—still do, it's a ruin enduring the elements, one that he won't face anytime soon.

Somehow, he settles fine at the Uchiha's, almost forgetting of how he left one of them behind, of the eye he bears as if it was his own when—ah what matters is how the children excitingly exchange glances, tugging blankets and slippers and countless things he truly doesn't need that badly into his new bedroom. 

They bring comfort, and squeals (well, not from Sasuke) when he introduces them to his pack, summons surrounding them. 

  
  


Naru has mourned his lack of relatives long ago, when he was a child alone on a swing. And the process unfolds itself again as he holds a picture of his parents—the sun has faded the red of his mother's hair, and his father's face is blurry. Might be a result of tears, of bubbling hope crushed right away.

Kakashi has experienced cruelty first hand, being given the opportunity to make amends, albeit only to the Memorial Stone and broken goggles he couldn't throw away in spite of everything. 

"Next time," Naru's lip is wobbling, "My hair will be like hers, not black! I wanna—was she kind? Strong? Cool?" 

"All of those," sunset is basking around them, akin to a protective cocoon. He spent days, and night, building wards again, ensuring no one could hear or interfere with their quiet life. 

Is it the best place? Definitely not. It'll drag Sasuke down more days than it should, to stand in the compound where he was once tortured by his sibling. The thing is, no matter the angle they pick, they'll have to face some suffering. 

So, better follow the simplest solution, or rather the first they figured out. The kids have their routine here, they don't stumble upon each other awkwardly. That grants them more freedom, support that they didn't realize they needed until they got it.

Selfishly, Kakashi is in this situation too. He counts on them, pushing barriers down gently to do more than play pretend—he is the adult, their teacher. He's their older brother (can't imagine being a father, that's beyond his grasp), their mentor. 

"Will she—would she be mad? At me, at—" 

"Never. She'd burn Konoha down for your sake, if she could see how you were mistreated." Would rage and storm her way inside the Hokage's tower, sparing no soul from her wrath. 

"Kakashi? What if... I didn't mind that? The idea of it."

He's a child, one with a back-up plan stored inside his brain, fox whispering who knows what during bad days, chakra flaring and eyes bleeding red without a warning. 

"Hm? Did you say something, I wasn't paying attention?"

While he ought to condemn any pseudo-rebellion, just so the three get to live, to grow into their bodies to be fast enough to tug their revolution where it cannot be seen while running on burned bridges, Kakashi shares some of this mindset. It should bring terror, a hint of shadow conscience staring back at him. 

You'd become a traitor, when you let me die? He can picture Obito, can remember hands brushing against each other, goggles tugged down to press a kiss against the corner of an eye—

Kakashi wraps an arm around Naru, watching the body tensing against his.

"Let's get you some dye for your hair tomorrow, if you're keen on going that route."

"Thanks." 

  
  


Under the pretense of training, he slips authorizations into Sakura's hand, allowing her to disappear in the forest when the urge boils inside her veins. She returns with torn clothes, a grin swallowing her face whole as she cannot stop herself from pouring out about her second family. 

The wolves teach her to outrun any enemy, to track and ambush. The first time she brings back a deer, dragging the empty carcass behind her with blood and dirt on every inch on her body, Kakashi laughs. 

That's odd, how he recalls old customs he had misplaced, father teaching him to skin and clean the result of a chase. He wasn't wild like a mother Kakashi didn't meet, although his blood wasn't devoid of that raw energy either. 

He isn't surprised when Sasuke retrieves a sharp knife from under a cabinet. Just in case, he whispers like a child who was once defenseless against monsters, handing it to his sister blade first. 

Sakura wraps him into a hug, wrestling the knife out of his grasp before following Kakashi outside. 

The deer is a shared meal they enjoy around a fire, and the compound is almost more than a ghost town. 

  
  


Their first mission outside of Konoha, regular C rank filled with walking alongside a wagon for a couple of hours, isn't as tumultuous as he feared. There are a couple of wrongdoings on his kids' part—too protective on themselves and not focusing enough on their client. Nothing which cannot be fixed. Nothing which has to be written down in his report. 

  
  


Hiruzen glances at Naru and blanches. 

Red hair, an untamed mess to be fair, clashes with the scars on his cheeks as he leans forward, hands clasped behind his back. 

The man doesn't get the opportunity to voice his displeasure, or to draw the right conclusions, as Naru barely mentions he wants to try every color. Except for pink, since Sakura already has that, does it make sense? In the grand scheme of things, surely, that doesn't mean much? 

A coincidence, that's all is there to see. 

The Hokage dismisses them without doing as much as offering praise, and it's only back in the safety of their house that the kids burst out laughing. In a manic way, bringing themselves to tears without managing to stop.

They stood their ground in the less impressive way possible. Better than nothing, than being pawns or forgotten or hurt ever again. 

(Kakashi worries so much for their future in Konoha.)

  
  


Naruto's writing improves to the point he starts practicing on seals, bringing books from what's left of the Uchiha's library and immersing himself as deep as possible, until he's sinking and ink is covering his fingers. 

He mentions tempering with his own seal once or twice, how it feels off when he's meditating—tugging at his chakra and sucking it too deep, where he can't reach. 

Kakashi refuses, a hint of blunt honesty slipping out. Too young, not enough experience. One day though. 

He isn't certain that his words are sufficient, although the child relents some of his energy to theory rather than practice after that. 

  
  


Arguments arise, dying down as quickly. Kakashi isn't a born teacher, he wasn't taught much in fact, left to fend for the curiosity inside his brain, feeding it whatever was available. Perhaps a qualified teacher wouldn't let his children fight until ribs are bruised and anger has evaporated from being worked out. 

He does, out of a better solution. Sakura molds her teeth with chakra, not quite a forbidden thing to do, although it's permanent he warns her. Which, in retrospect, doesn't mean much for a girl who has not planned on living that long. 

Canine too sharp, even more than before, she clenches her jaw around her brother's skin, breaking it. 

If they were distraught at first—Sasuke considering blood as the beginning of a nightmare, a warning—they learned to bear with bandages and more training for the boy who decided that's the path he is on. 

"That's not an afterthought, or an excuse to run and desecrate my clan. Neither it will ensure that I don't lose one of you," he tells his family created from scratch, "I'm trying to protect you though. Fuck what was decided in my name." 

"I'll be at the front, deflecting the enemy's attacks and returning them with all my might. Naru's our tactician, using seals and tricks, and you're the medic. Sounds like a team!" she slams her palms against the table, pride flowing around her like the hair starting to regrow. 

"And what about your poor teacher, so terribly ignored?" 

"Ah, you can watch us rather than reading your awful books." 

He has gotten an earful once or twice for indulging in that pastime. Apparently it's exposing them to the wrong side of literature. 

"You wound me. Deeply." 

She leaps over the table, feet avoiding bowls and plates, to throw her body at him. That's the sort of tackling hug she has learned from the wolves, and he is a bit too old for that. 

His back has seen better days. 

Especially when the remaining kids join the fray until he's laying underneath all three. Ah, youth.

  
  


He avoids registering his team for the upcoming exams, trusting them without giving the same credit to the village. Apparently, that's an offense to the Council who counted on watching them in action. 

Well, coming from old men who haven't fought in too long yet bring war up as a justification for everything, that's rich. 

Kakashi opts to take them out of Konoha during the exams, as there are definitely diplomatic missions to be found in these tiring times. One to Suna, for example. 

(Convincing Sasuke that wearing black is out of question is the hardest part, if he has to give a fair assessment of the situation.) 

Whatever they'll return or not from Suna is up for debate. A detail that he may have omitted when signing the kids for that C rank. Oops. An awful mistake, for sure. 

They pack what matters inside scrolls, Sakura howling to the moon to communicate her love to her family deep inside the forest (neighbors do complain about a dog being too loud at night, to which Kakashi pretends having never heard such thing, are they sure?) and get ready for what might be their longest journey yet. 

  
  


You see, had you asked Hatake Kakashi ten months ago if he could ever picture himself as a traitor—outside of the 'once abandoned someone important' debacle—he would have been incredulous, and upset. Right now, as he walks alongside Hyuuga Hinata, young ambassador of Konoha, as they make their way to Suna, he'd simply slit your throat in your sleep and move onto something more important. 

(He won't harm their client though, that's the part where they follow the script.) 

Next to the disgraced heir—he's heard about the title snatched from her hands and given to her younger sister—a silent shadow serves as her guardian. 

Kakashi isn't offended by that detail, after all they are only meant to escort the pair to Suna, not to linger during diplomatic meetings and boring tours. Behind the simple mask, all black with white eyes drawn on wood, the person doesn't say much outside of the usual humming at the Hyuuga's words. 

Naru, a bit of a chatterbox when he's allowed to be himself, has taken a liking to the girl who is the same age as his sister, babbling about Suna and how it's his first time going so far from the village. If anything, the child is the best judge of character out of team seven, thus he lets him pour his heart out. 

  
  


Later that evening, as they have settled down for the night, makeshift camp in the middle of nowhere, they sit around flames lulling them into dropping their guard. Sure, the possibility of an ambush remains, it's always there after that. Still, Kakashi isn't that concerned, they didn't pass anybody and people are focused on the chunin exams more than whatever happens elsewhere. 

"You're pretty, with the mask too—I really like your eyes though." Ah Naru. 

Never short on compliments with people he appreciates, capable of turning sharp and unforgiving towards enemies. 

"I'm a boy, you know?" 

"Does it matter?" 

"I suppose not, thank you Naru," Haku replies, chin resting against a palm as he watches the child so keen on befriending him. 

There is a story, another one, behind the teenager whose master was slayed by Kurenai and her team, leaving scars and a plea for death which was ignored. Hinata offered her hand, shards from mirrors still inside her palm. 

Kakashi has heard a myriad of truths, when they go drinking until his brain turns mellow and tragedies are mere details he's capable of forgetting. None of that is his to tell though. Instead, he marvels at how far his kids have come. At Naru's laughter, and how Sasuke is silently meditating in a corner, chasing away his fears. 

By his side, Sakura licks her teeth, remains of dinner sticking to them, leaning against his shoulder to say 'hey I'm here for you too' and—Kakashi feels something in his throat tighten as he wraps an arm loosely around the small frame. 

"Thanks, kiddo." 

For being his family.

For having clawed her way into his heart alongside her brothers.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
